Hello everyone! Happy Post Cinco De Mayo Hangover Day! Surprisingly, I didn't drink much; barely got a buzz.
I want to give everyone a heads-up. My and my GF families do Mother's day pretty big, so next week seems VERY unlikely that I can update. Part of the reason I can write is because my weekends are free, unlike most of the family, so I get to do a LOT of driving around :( I will try to write and update but to be honest, I don't think I'll have the time. Sorry.
This chapter deals a lot with the aftermath of the Goblet and involves the girls more-taking more steps toward them.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 4/9/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
The Iceberg's Deception
If hard work placed a person where good luck could find them, what traits did Harry possess for bad luck to stalk him so effortlessly? He wondered where the sense of fairness was. Was he the counterbalance to some other soul on this planet that had inordinately good luck? If so, Harry was almost willing to dedicate what remained of his life after killing Voldemort to search for this person for the express purpose of punching them in the face.
"You really do have shite luck," Draco chuckled.
"Language," Perenelle chided Draco. He rolled his eyes but stayed quiet.
Daphne and Hermione exchanged a look of concern and curiosity while Nicolas asked Harry, "Who do you think it was?"
"Don't know," Harry replied gloomily before turning to face the gawking crowd, who were now murmuring and shouting about the unfairness of it all. When he spotted Dumbledore's expressionless countenance, holding both parchments, Harry politely excused himself from the immediate vicinity.
With his phoenix perched agitatedly on his squared shoulders, the students parted to let Harry approach Dumbledore. Landing just before the old Headmaster, who still looked as impassive as ever, Harry accepted both parchments and studied them for several moments. Finally, he addressed the old man, "One of these is definitely my handwriting-"
"He admits it!" a voice suddenly bellowed from somewhere in the Hall. The voice that sounded suspiciously like Khan's continued to yell, "He put his name in the Goblet!"
Harry ignored the children's inane fuss and continued to explain to Dumbledore, "But it's been ripped off in such a way, I'd wonder if it was taken from an assignment I turned in. The "Hogwarts" that's written-in isn't even in my handwriting. You ought to ask the professors if any of the work I've submitted has a missing section where my name should be. This second one looks like it's been written by an entirely different person. A practiced hand judging by the clean and rounded loops. I'd guess an older person that writes many professional correspondences day in and day out. I'll give these to my parents so they can look it over and oversee the investigation."
Harry had turned away before the Headmaster could say anything and headed right to his group. He handed the parchments to the Flamels and told them within the secrecy of his privacy barrier, "This isn't the work of a Death Eater following Voldemort's orders-" A couple of gasps alerted him to Daphne and Hermione's shock at hearing the moniker of the Dark Lord spoken aloud without fear or apprehension. Harry continued, "None of them know or need me like I might expect they need Potter. The likeliest suspects are Dumbledore, Snape, or someone from the Upper Order, Khan more than likely. Talk to Amelia and see if there's any legal advice she can give that we can pursue."
As the Flamels looked over the parchments, Harry turned to Hermione and Daphne. "Draco and I train in the mornings, five AM, by the main entrance. If the name Voldemort shocks you, don't come. If you think there's even a remote chance I put my name in the Goblet, don't come. If you want to keep being knuckleheads about this, then I insist you train as well. For your sake, I hope I don't see you tomorrow morning."
Harry wondered optimistically if a bit of hard training might change their minds if they showed up. He left them and entered the antechamber, nodding at Fleur and Krum's confused faces. Harry noted how completely silent it was despite being next to the Great Hall as he took a seat. Fleur gracefully took the seat next to him, her scent instantly satisfying to the senses.
"Ares, why are you 'ere? 'Ave zey asked you to come fetch us, or were you simply too eager to congratulate me?" She asked with a cocky smirk.
With a chuckle, Harry answered, "Congratulations on being Beauxbaton's Champion Fleur, but it seems I'm Hogwarts Champion." She blinked in surprise to hear that. Recalling his past, he couldn't help but add before she could reply. "No, it's not a joke, but I wish it was. Yes, I'm too young, but my name still came out of the Goblet, and I don't know why."
Fleur was understandably surprised to hear that a fourteen-year-old would be in the tournament despite the age line put in place to prevent just that, but Harry could also sense her concern. "Eef you zay you deed not put your name een ze Goblet, zen of course I believe you, but 'ow could zhis 'ave 'appened?"
Before Harry could answer, the chamber door opened and in walked a stunned Hardwin Potter, answering one of Harry's initial questions of how fast Barty Jr. tampered with the ancient magical artifact. He reasoned it had happened within the first week.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked Hardwin, playing the fool when Ludo Bagman suddenly entered the room, announcing to all with clear amusement, "As if this tournament couldn't get any better with a surprise underage Hogwat's wizard… We now have a fourth underage Champion!"
Krum's brows furrowed instantly, registering how upset he was, while Harry continued to look perplexed, and Fleur stated, completely mystified, "Zhis must be zhe joke, yes? 'E cannot possibly compete."
"The age restriction was never a rule in previous tournaments," Bagman explained excitedly to the Champions. "It was only a stipulation enforced by the Wizengamot, as such, any and all names selected by the Goblet—no matter how they ended up there—are still required to participate."
Hardwin looked lost and Harry wondered if he had displayed a similar mix of confusion and fear when the very same thing happened to him.
Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, McGonagall, Snape, the real Mad-Eye Moody, and Umbridge all hurriedly entered the antechamber. Dumbledore—the furthest thing from calm—rushed towards Hardwin, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him as he shouted, "Did you put your name in the Goblet? Hardwin, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?!"
"N-No," Hardwin stuttered, leaning away from the headmaster. "No, I didn't, professor. Honest." Dumbledore let Hardwin go as Lily Potter entered the room and hurried straight to her son, wrapping him protectively in her arms. Nicolas entered the room and stood beside Harry without hovering. Dumbledore turned to Harry and asked with just as much enthusiasm, "Did you put your name in the Goblet, Mr. Flamel?"
"I already explained that I didn't, Headmaster," Harry calmly reminded him.
"They—or at least one of them—must be lying," Snape assured the room. "While Mr. Potter seems to have a propensity for being the target of malicious intent, Mr. Flamel, has a clear history of challenging authority by any clever means he can think of."
"Challenging inane dichotomy, I'll give you that much, Professor Snape," Nicolas responded with a smile, standing just as calmly as Harry. "I assure you, Ares hasn't learned everything he knows by detesting authority on principle. It's hard to learn from one you might hate, after all."
"Hem-Hem," Umbridge coughed but was ignored in a room where everyone felt an urge to raise their concerns.
"How could dis have happened, Dumbledore?" Karkaroff leveled at the Hogwarts Headmaster. "Clearly you've successfully orchestrated two of your students to enter the tournament for twice the chance of vinning."
"That is not, nor has that ever been Headmaster Dumbledore, or Hogwarts position or intention," McGonagall sternly declared. "It's more clear to me something afoul has occurred."
"Could you 'ave made a mistake wizh your charm, Albus?" Maxime asked the elder. "Zhat ees zhe only explanation zhat makes sense, non?"
"More so dhan Hogwart's doubling dhere odds of vinning?" Karkaroff asked Maxime. The large headmistress seemed unsure.
"Regardless of the Age Line," Lily began to tell the room. "Hardwin would never put his name in the Goblet! He just wouldn't!"
Karkaroff stepped up to Bagman and irately requested, "I demand the official position of Britain's ministry." The burly man then turned to Umbridge and added, "As vell as an impartial opinion."
Bagman cleared his throat before informing the assembled professors and students, "As I've already explained, age restrictions have never been interwoven into the enchantment of the Goblet. It does not distinguish between age, but rather magical proficiency of each participating student within the school they represent."
Breaking through the thick atmosphere, Moody said, "Couldn't be more clearer to me what happened." When they all turned to him, he looked over to The-Boy-Who-Lived and added, "This would explain why that dark filth wanted to sneak in here for… to kill Harwin Potter."
"No," Lily protested, tightening her arm around her son's shoulders. "That couldn't be. He couldn't have been here for that when there were other, easier opportunities to hurt my boy."
Shrugging, Moody replied, "Well, he weren't here for the love of teachin this lot o' brainless sacks, that's for sure."
"Could that be the cause?" Dumbledore asked Bagman. "If the Goblet believed there was a fourth school and put one name in, could that be why Mr. Potter's parchment had no school name?"
"It very well could be," Bagman answered with a slow nod.
"Hem-Hem," the pink toad lady faked her cough more sternly, finally taking the attention she craved. "While I'm certain Misters Flamel and Potter did not expect such an outlandish outcome, I see no proof of foul intent by which their names were entered, and without concrete proof, I will report as much to the Minister. Furthermore, I feel it would be prudent of the ministry, and all responsible for this outcome, to make certain they're telling the absolute truth." Umbridge paused for a moment as they looked at her expectantly. "Veritaserum is the only clear way to ascertain the truth of this matter," she finished, but many in the room scoffed at the idea.
"I will not allow you to give my son Veritaserum!" Lily emphatically asserted, staring daggers at the Undersecretary.
"Nor will I," Nicolas added, making Harry feel weird about being called someone's son.
"You certainly are entitled to your opinion, Professor Potter," Umbridge sweetly replied in her abnormally child-like voice. "But should our great Minister decide-"
"The statements made by the Head of a Noble and Most Ancient house with a highly influential seat in the Wizengamot are far more than an opinion, Undersecretary, and you would do well to remember that!" Lily quickly shot back with ferocious authority.
Umbridge's head tilted oddly with a twitch, like her neck muscle tightened intensely. As she faked a wide smile, her eyes looked murderous—rubbing Harry the wrong way.
"The path forward is clear," Dumbledore said with a raised voice, cutting through the heated debate. "All four must compete. There is no other choice."
"I must strenuously object," Maxime stated. "Zhey are too young. Eet is far too dangerous."
"I do not see any other alternative, Madame Maxime, that does not cause them to lose their magic," Dumbledore declared. "However, I am open to suggestions."
In the silence that followed, Harry decided to move this along, and asked, "When's the first task?"
Eying Harry suspiciously, Umbridge remarked, "You seemed to have accepted this rather easily, Mr. Flamel... one might say, quickly, even."
"Can't say there's much choice between a few tasks, or losing my magic," Harry answered her without much patience. "But now that your passive-aggressive way of saying you don't believe me is well received by everyone in the room, would you kindly shut it so Mr. Bagman can tell us what we need to know?"
It was only the second time he had spoken directly to Undersecretary Umbridge, and he couldn't seem to quell his extreme dislike of the pink toad woman—he had to admit, he almost felt incapable of it. Even telling her to shut up was him holding back as much of his animosity toward her as he could. The room was silent, unsure how a student as young as him from a Noble and Most Ancient House could act like such a delinquent toward authority. Harry caught a tight smirk from both Nicolas and Lily, and a wide grin from Moody.
"You insolent-" Umbridge started when she was interrupted.
Bagman cleared his throat, before rushing past the awkwardness and into his explanation."Right! The first task will be on the twenty-fourth of November. It will test your daring and resourcefulness, so you will not be told what the task is until the day of. You are forbidden to ask or accept the help of any professors. Additionally, your wand will be the only tool you may walk in with."
"To assist with your preparation," Dumbledore began to tell the students. "You will also be excused from end-of-the-year exams."
"I cannot simply allow this," Karkaroff once again began complaining to the room, followed by Madame Maxime's, "Nor can I."
Moving to leave, Harry said, "If that's all you have for us…"
"Ares?" Nicolas called. "If you'd be so courteous as to escort Ms. Delacour to her carriage. I'm certain this may take some time."
Ares squinted at Nicolas's encouraging face, feeling betrayed. Fleur stood up, not explicitly stating that she was leaving, and bid her headmistress goodnight with a kiss on each cheek. She then sweetly looked at Harry, signaling to him she was ready to leave. By this point, the Great Hall and hallways were empty of students, and Harry was certain that there would be celebrations in both the Slytherin and Gryffindor houses. Once the pair had left the castle's entrance, Nova took off into the night sky, blending in perfectly.
"I believe you did not put your name een zhe Goblet," Fleur shared with Harry. "You could not do a zhing like zhat and refuse to claim credit for saving mine and my sister's lives."
"How's she doing, by the way?" Harry asked.
"I zhink meeting her savior 'as done 'er good," Fleur answered with an easy smile at the thought of her sister. "She sleeps better, and eats properly now. She may 'ave developed a crush on you."
"I'm uh, flattered," Harry uncertainly replied.
Fleur giggled, a sweet sound Harry hadn't expected to enjoy hearing, before she continued. "I wonder eef you know 'ow to be flattered, monsieur Trouble Star. Glory and praise do not seem to interest you een zhe slightest. Do not worry about Gabrielle. She 'as already given me notice, and will wait until she is older before she attempts to seduce you. I 'ave until zhen to stake my claim."
As Fleur's words sank in, Harry felt a rising wave of panic gripping his chest. The thought of such an exquisite and alluring woman taking a romantic interest in him was both exhilarating and terrifying. His heart pumped harder as her carefree approach to such private affairs boggled his mind and tightened his chest. He felt like he should say something, but his mind was chaotic with conflicting thoughts and his tongue felt heavy, so he said nothing.
"You do not 'ave to be so reserved wizh me, Arez," Fleur said, sensing his fluster. "You are alwayz free to speak your mind. I do not balk so eazily."
"I... I wouldn't be surprised if you regret that," Harry told her as he started to wonder if warning Fleur, Hermione, and Daphne about the dangers of associating with him helped dissuade them in any way. Absent a better, more genuine argument, Harry continued, "I'm not the good person most might think me to be."
"I already know you 'ave taken life," Fleur reminded him. "'Ow can eet be worse zhan zhat?"
"I've tortured a seventh-year boy," Harry confessed, looking directly into her beautifully hypnotic, dark blue eyes.
"What did''e do?" she asked, as if there had to be a perfectly good reason for him to torture someone.
Harry returned his eyes to the carriage ahead before hesitantly answering, "…He raped someone I know."
"Zhen I 'ave no pity for 'im," she quickly and easily asserted. "But please, continue attempting to convince me you are too terrible for relations."
"I don't care to be with anyone," Harry continued, but felt like it'd just fall on deaf ears. "…I can't love."
"Respectfully, I disagree," Fleur replied. "I would believe you love too much before I believe you do not love at all. Een my opinion—well, een zhe opinion of someone who knows men very well—you may 'ave developed a fear for zhe one thing zhat you believe can 'urt you the most. Eet ees why I zhink you avoided me zhis month."
"I wasn't avoiding you," Harry insisted, bypassing her analysis of him. "We just have conflicting schedules."
"Zhat ees a terrible excuse," Fleur blandly replied, leveling him with a pout and raise of her chin. "Eef a man desirez a woman, nozhing een zhe world ees truly able to stop 'im from proclaiming 'is love for 'er. And nozhing ees wrong wizh that."
"Maybe nothing is wrong with that, but what if the man doesn't desire her?"
"Zhen zhey can be zhe best of friends," Fleur honestly answered. "However, eef 'e ees lying to 'imself, zhen zhey can be neizher friends nor lovers. Are you a liar, Arez?"
It couldn't be more clear to Harry how simple she saw the depth of this… coupling? Pairing? Entering a social status of union? This was blowing Harry's mind. Little, skinny, Harry Potter with the object of everyone's extreme adoration, Fleur Delacour? Could this topic of discussion actually be about the two of them engaging in some form of relationship that extended the boundaries of friendly acquaintances into something more? Could that really be what this conversation was about?
As he looked at Fleur, he felt his heart pounding in his chest and his blood rush through his veins. He had always known that she was beautiful, but now he saw her in a new light. The way her hair fell across her shoulders and caught the moonlight, the curve of her lips as she spoke, the sparkle in her alluring eyes, her thin waist, ample bosom, curvaceous hips—all of it seemed to conspire to make him feel things he ought not be feeling. Harry knew he had to be careful, that he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, or he wasn't sure he would always make the right decisions.
'Bill!' His mind called out loud. However, another side of his mind returned just as loudly, 'A life without frivolities is a long road without an inn...' His mind annoyingly recited Democritus. But isn't that the choice he's already made?
Internally, he was struggling with opposing wants and desires while on the outside, he shared with her, "Fleur, call me a liar if you want. I won't think badly of you if you did, nor will I ignore you if you do, but, believe me when I say I have far too much to do in this life to be thinking about dates, and dances, and long strolls about the castle."
"I zhink zhe dates, and dancing, and strolls about zhe castle are simply zhe fun bits," Fleur casually remarked. "Zhere real purpose is quality time spent togezher."
Resolute in his mulct punishment, he solemnly expressed, "What I wouldn't give to have the luxury of devoting such time to a single person, as if they were the sole focus of my life. It's unimaginable to me, because the moment I take my eyes off of the enemy, another friend dies; another loved one dies." He looked away for a moment to keep his horrific memories from bombarding him, praying that she understands.
"So," he continued. "You tell me how it is that I'm supposed to look away to enjoy the fun bits when I know that person could very well be the next dead eyes I see in my dreams?" His eyes felt hot as he continued to say, "The purpose of being with someone is just not an option for me, Fleur. That's just too normal for the cards I've been dealt, and it's not fair to put anyone through the craziness of my life—especially people I can love the most. If I wasted your time, I apologize, but I can't give what I don't even know is in me to give, because that would be the real lie."
Fleur seemed taken by something, although Harry couldn't say whether it was his honesty, his rejection, or his priorities. Standing by the Beauxbaton carriage, he watched as Fleur turned around and walked up the few steps to the carriage doors. His mind was already plotting what part of the forest to search next when she turned back to tell him one last thing.
"Expectation ees a weed zhat growz absent 'ard work," Fleur said. "I apologize az well, Arez. Maybe I should not treat you like every ozher wizard, for you 'ave already shown me ozherwise. Please, spar wizh me, as you promised: Zhis Saturday, an 'our before noon. 'Ave a friendly contest wizh me."
If that was a compromise, Harry would gladly take it, and answered, "Sure. Saturday."
Harry flamed into Draco's room late in the night, as he had every night since learning of the possible ghoul feeding on the Unicorn.
The silver-blonde closed an old green tome he was reading as he waited for Harry, and stated, "Khan's all but admitted putting your name in the Goblet; boasting about your death and how everything will go back to the way it was when you're gone. He's scaring others to returning to the fold."
"Don't care," Harry easily conveyed.
"Figured as much," Draco said with a huff. "Which is why I made sure everyone knew you survived worse than a tournament."
Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed Draco's shoulder, and they flamed to the usual clearing within the Dark Forest. As they walked deeper into the forest, Harry said, "The second piece of parchment matches Dumbledore's writing from a letter he sent me in the previous timeline."
"Why would Dumbledore put your name in the Goblet?" Draco asked in confusion. "Not that I don't believe the wrinkled tosser wouldn't. If it was anyone else, that's like a death sentence."
"I'm fairly sure it has more to do with learning all he can about me and testing my abilities, than actually attempting to murder me," Harry explained. "It's not completely unexpected considering how he's so used to having his way and the Flamels haven't fallen in line."
"And you used to gobble up everything that came out of that manipulative bastard's wand," Draco recalled aloud with a nose of superiority as Harry put Nova on Draco's shoulder.
"Remember, Nova," Harry said to his avian familiar. "Rotten as he is to the touch, try to stay with Draco for as long as you can. If there's any trouble, come get me." His phoenix nodded as Draco smugly replied, "Afraid to admit she's taken a fancy to me, Potter?"
"Not really, Malfoy," Harry lamely answered. "She loves bugs and bacon, and you don't look the least bit hearty."
Draco sneered without any vitriol, took his direction, wand in hand, and Phoenix on his shoulder. Leaving Nova with Draco the entire night would be the easiest thing in the world so she could quickly flame to him if there was trouble. However, at her best, she only lasted thirty minutes away from him before the bond they shared compelled a great need for her to return to him. It was the only reason he missed the bloodsucker last night. Since it fed last night, Harry did not expect to run into it tonight, and they called it quits by two in the morning.
He stepped out of Hogwarts' front entrance by five and found both Daphne and Hermione wearing their respective house Quidditch team's sweat tops. While Daphne wore form-fitting black leggings, Hermione had on loose gray sweats. Both girls had their hair tied back in a ponytail as they stretched their limbs to their limit. Despite his purpose of exhausting them, Harry could not deny their appeal as he walked up to them. He didn't understand the intrusive nature of how engaging they looked in their sweat jumpers as they stretched, but as was his habit now, he called on his occlumency to help him focus on the blood flow that actually mattered, and hopefully getting the girls to quit.
After an eleven-kilometer run, they swam for forty minutes in the freezing black lake under the same instruction he had given Draco in the beginning—no warming charms. It was cruel and harsh of him to put them through so much right at the beginning, but to their credit, they pushed themselves until they dropped or drowned, both of which happened multiple times. By the end, Harry was helping a heaving Hermione with her arm around his neck to the castle's entrance while Daphne refused help. He gave them a pepper-up potion for a bit of energy and cast a warming charm on them as well.
"Take it easy, stretch, and get some food in your system soon," he kindly ordered. "We spar after classes."
As Hermione and Daphne drag their exhausted feet back to their rooms, a heaving Draco—holding himself up with his hands on his knees—asked, "Are you sure about this?"
"This being?" Harry asked.
"I just want to know how involved they're going to be here," Draco returned, still trying to catch his breath. "How much are you going to let them in on?"
"None of it, if I can help it," Harry answered. "But that doesn't seem likely, given how perceptive they are. I wouldn't be surprised if they spied on me just to get answers to their questions."
"Like Dumbledore?"
"I guess, but maybe not so heavy-handed," Harry answered with a shrug. "If I have to, I'll bring them in on the same Voldemort story we're feeding Dumbledore-"
"And that you think he's still alive?" Draco asked.
"Yeah, but no more than that," he shared. Turning to the silver-blond scion, Harry warned, "So please, Malfoy, be careful with what you say from here on out. I want them close enough to protect them but not so close they become targets."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Not to impress you or anything, but I can hear," he responds sarcastically.
Nodding, he continued, "I'll keep them distracted with intense training while we look for the bloodsucker. At the very least, I'll feel better knowing they can handle themselves if neither of us happen to be around."
"At the risk of making more sense than you're obviously comfortable with," Draco began. "This is not going to end well—this thing between you and them, I mean. Tracey's already asked me what you really think about Daphne, no doubt for Daphne's benefit. Not to mention I always thought you and Granger were broom cupboard friends too."
"Broom cupboard-" Harry began to question, then exhaled when he understood. "We weren't!" he defended. "And with everything going on, I don't care about all... that stuff!"
"...That stuff," an amused Draco mumbled. "You know, with every scrap of information you have in your scared up head of yours, it's pretty easy to forget you have zero experience with that stuff. Locked away like you were—for decades—with a fucking parasite for company, you never…" Ar Harry's dark glare, Draco restated, "I only mean to say you don't understand how fragile girls can be about all that emotional nonsense."
"Who says there's any emotional nonsense going on now?" Harry asked, deflecting Draco's insinuation.
"Do you really want to ignore what could be a major issue down the line just because it's a little uncomfortable now?" the Malfoy heir asked.
Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead raw. "In my wildest dreams I never thought I'd be having a conversation like this with you," Harry sadly pointed out, more to himself, but Draco gave Harry a nodding exasperated look that matched the sentiment. Shaking his head, Harry asked, "Are you offering a solution on how to keep them away?"
"I don't know," he answered with a half-committal shrug. "My marriage was arranged, and Pansy was a dutiful wife, so I never had to worry about her feelings… until they mattered," he glumly added, his silver eyes shaping his saddening thoughts again. "But if you really don't want them getting close…" he began, taking a moment to ponder a solution. "Oh, girls hate liars and cheaters. So, theoretically, you can date one, then cheat on her with the other, and when they both find out what a disgusting horn dog you are, they'll both happily drop your cheating arse."
"You would come up with some sick shite like that," Harry mouthed disapprovingly before walking away.
"You never specified what kind of solution!" Draco retorted with a shrug, following Harry.
Hermione and Daphne's eyes widen in amazement as they take in the sight of the remodeled Room of Requirement, designed specifically for their dueling practice. The room was large with mirrored walls, a section that had ten dummies lined up in a row, a dueling square in the center, and plenty of towels and seats along the mirrored walls. Hermione couldn't help but let out a gasp of excitement as her eyes focused on the shelf full of books on the farthest wall, while Daphne's lips curled into a wide grin, her ice-blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"How did you ever learn about a place like this?" Daphne asked, astonished. "Even I didn't know. Me!"
"It can configure itself to accommodate anything you need?" Hermione asked as she touched one of the ten training dummies in the center of the room.
"The house elves told me," Harry answered Daphne before turning to Hermione. "And within reason, yes. Even a library—if you were wondering—though I've never tried. I only use it to train in peace."
"So, this is where you and Draco go every day," Daphne mentioned, looking over the line of training dummies, though each dummy to the left was bigger than the one on its right. The first one was slightly taller than professor Flitwick while the tenth dummy was the size of Hagrid.
Turning to Harry, Hermione asked, "Aren't you tired after using your magic all day?"
Harry took off his robe, sweater vest, and green and silver tie, then rolled up his sleeves. Looking over to Daphne, both girls nodded and removed their own robes as well. While Daphne removed her vest and tie, Hermione just rolled up her sleeves. For the first time since starting Hogwarts, the bushy-haired girl regretted wearing the optional slacks girls could wear instead of the flowy plaid skirt Daphne was wearing to great effect.
"The amount of magic you use in class is shite compared to what you'll be using here," Draco answered her. "Makes what you use during the day look like a vacation." Draco then turns to Harry to quickly add, "Speaking of which, I'm staying with you for winter holiday."
Harry eyed Draco weirdly—as if wondering why bring that up—before turning to the girls. "I believe in quality over quantity," Harry started with Draco by his side. "The number of spells you know isn't as important as the quality of their makeup. What does a protego matter if it's not strong enough to stop a deadly curse? To help with that, you'll use these training dummies. They're enchanted to weigh more than they look. Draco."
Upon hearing his name, Draco walked over to the middle of the line of dummies—the fifth dummy in a line of ten—and called out, "Depulso!" The fifth dummy slid back around four meters(13ft). Draco moved to dummy number six, cast the banishing charm, forcing the dummy to slide back nearly three meters(9.5ft). Dummy number seven slid back one and a half meters(5.5ft), dummy number eight slid back under a meter(2.2ft), and dummy number nine slid back a fraction of a meter(0.9ft). When Draco struck dummy number ten, it wobbled a bit, but stayed firmly in place. Draco looked winded with a bit of sweat on his brow as he walked back to the fascinated girls.
Harry walked over to dummy number ten, and without uttering a word, banished the heaviest training dummy back nearly twice the length of Draco's push of dummy number five, smacking against the wall of the chamber with a rumble.
Slipping his wand back in his holster, he turned back to the shocked girls, and told them, "For now, I want you both to focus on this; working from dummy number one all the way to eight. This regimen will help the potency of your spells so you can add a higher level of force in every cast, making it a little easier to defend against truly strong opponents. When you can push dummy number eight one meter back, we'll move on to quick-casting."
"What level would you say the impostor, that Death Eater, was?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.
Harry pondered an answer a moment before estimating, "If we're strictly talking about the potency of his magic, I reckon he's on a fourteen or fifteen dummy level."
The girls were skeptically amazed, almost as if wondering if it was possible, while simultaneously curious about their level. Daphne shook out of her stupor to ask, "What level are you?"
"Higher," is all Harry answered
He and Draco then headed over to the dueling square to train. Resolute, both girls began forcing the first dummy back and forth between each other. By the end of the session, Hermione was working the second dummy with more success than Daphne was having on the third. To Harry's surprise and dismay, the girls never quit. The intensity of the training throughout the week never waned and while they may have stumbled and sunk, they kept pushing themselves to finish, and Harry had no idea why.
He simply couldn't understand why they chose to go through this with as little knowledge as he had given them. It always made him wonder why Ron and Hermione from his timeline stuck by him when things only got worse every year. It was easy to just say they were his best friends, but this timeline's Hermione and Daphne had only just met him a few months ago. As Harry was never the most studious, their claim of ultimate knowledge didn't make much sense. He could only really speculate that there had to be more, but what? Harry didn't ponder on it long and continued their training even on Saturday.
A letter from Fleur informed Harry to meet at three in the Quidditch field, as she had secured permission to use it for their sparring session. Thus, Harry and Nova, accompanied by Luna, Hermione, Daphne, Draco, and Tracey, walked through the castle to the Quidditch field, when an angry voice rang throughout the courtyard. They saw two very heated Gryffindors glaring at each other.
Hardwin yelled at Ron, "Yeah? Well, if that's how you really feel, you best bloody keep away from me then!"
"Trouble in pride paradise?" Tracey hooted beside Draco.
"'Stay away from him?'" Draco repeated in mocking curiosity. "Does Potter mean that except for when they see each other in class, or meal times, or in their dorm?" As Tracey snorted in amusement, Harry candidly glared at the silver-blond who just shrugged. They watched Ron, Dean, Lavender, and Seamus leave a fuming Hardwin in the courtyard. Hardwin spied Cho Chang as she and Cedric left in the same direction—toward the field.
"We'll be late if we don't hurry," Tracey remarked from behind Daphne.
An errant thought about Hagrid and dragons entered Harry's mind, and he thought, 'Surely someone else will help Hardwin with the first task, right?' Just because Hagrid was the one who warned Harry in the previous timeline, and this Boy-Who-Lived didn't seem to know Hagrid as well, didn't mean that no one would warn Hardwin…
With a mental sigh, Harry told his group, "I'll meet you down at the field," then walked over to an irate Hardwin. "You and your mate have a row?" was all Harry could think to ask, since he was fairly certain the fight was no different from the one in his timeline—when Ron wouldn't believe Harry had nothing to do with his name ending up in the Goblet.
"What powers of deduction you have, Lord Obvious," Hardwin sarcastically retorted. "Was it the yelling and anger that gave us away?"
Gently, Harry replied, "Hey, I'm sure whatever's going on between you two will blow over, and when he sees it, he'll remember what an awesome person you are and how amazing your friendship is." Brows furrowed, Hardwin stared at Harry in disgust before he added, "I mean, personally I think you're a spoiled, ungrateful twat, but it's a fair bet Weasley doesn't."
With an aggravated sigh, Hardwin asked, "What do you want, Flamel?"
"I honestly only wanted to check if you're okay," Harry calmly answered. "I've been told the specific phrase for it is called, expressing concern."
"Why do you care? You have your friends," Hardwin hotly contested, nudging his chin to indicate behind Harry. When Harry turned around, he saw Draco, Tracey, Daphne, Luna, and Hermione were waiting for him—rather than meet him at the field. "If you don't hurry you'll be late," Hardwin sourly added.
Harry found his last statement odd and asked, "What do you mean, I'll be late? Where do you think I'm going?"
"Obviously, to the quidditch field," Hardwin replied as if there couldn't be another answer. "And you don't have to invite me to join you. I was going, anyway. If you'll excuse me, I don't want to be seen around a slimy Slytherin any longer than I have to." Hardwin left in the same direction Neville Longbottom was also moving toward.
Walking toward the field, stone-silent, Harry quickly grasped the irritating situation and his friends quickly grasped that he figured it out. Sure enough, by the entrance of the quidditch field, most of the stands are filled with students and teachers with an elevated square dueling platform in the middle. Harry swiveled to Draco first, the annoyed impatience expressed easily on his face doing all the talking.
"First off," Draco began. "Everyone else only found out about an hour ago, after it was rescheduled. And second, I would've told you but I'm still pissed at you for..." Draco flicked his eyes toward Tracey, and continued, "Certain things."
"Been hanging out with certain things a lot though, haven't you?" Harry hotly returned, and Draco, at least, had the decency to look away, as the truth about their meaning remained hidden from Tracey.
"Oh, really Ares, what's the harm?" Daphne questioned. "You were okay letting us watch. What's a few more faces really matter?"
"I think everyone here knows I don't care for fame or crowds or attention, and this is literally all three combined," Harry said with frustration in his voice.
"Does the educational value and reason for the spar change simply because more people are in attendance?" Hermione easily questioned. "It's still to our benefit to see."
"It's possible he may have performance issues," Luna pondered aloud, eying Harry closely as Draco's great coughing snickering. In all seriousness, Luna asked, "Are you afraid of speaking in public?"
"I'm certain he can perform more than adequately," Hermione quickly defended.
"So forward, Granger," Draco called suggestively. "It's almost like you're speaking from experience." Hermione turned red at his insinuation and Harry glared at Draco.
The Malfoy scion's large, challenging silver eyes, and facial expression easily conveyed to Harry, 'It's not fun, is it?'
"I can spar with Fleur in private or not at all-" Harry quickly stopped when he sensed a substantial body of warmth rushed at him, and popped his wand in his grasp. Tilting his head to the side, his peripheral vision spotted Gabrielle, her wavy, silky blond hair running to him before spearing him at his waist and hugging him fiercely.
The cute girl didn't notice him retracting his wand in his wrist holster when he heard a French voice call, "Ah! I was beginning to zhink you would not show!" Fleur walked up to the group.
Harry patted Gabrielle's shoulder as Harry patiently asked, "Fleur, why are there so many people here?"
"Eet ees quite amazing, non?" Fleur said with a dazzling smile. "I only informed my Headmistress of our intent to spar, as we were instructed to do eef zhe occasion occurred between schoolz. Zhen I am told zhe world record 'older for consecutive dueling championship, Professor Flitwick, will be overseeing our friendly contest! And now zhis!" She happily stated, waving her hand at the four seating towers and the dueling ring.
"Thank Merlin, he's arrived!" Professor Flitwick called, walking over to the group. "We were beginning to wonder if we should let the others start first."
There was far too much Harry didn't know and it was beginning to grate his patience, daring him to blow up. Harry took a deep breath and calmly replied, "I wasn't told about any of this, and in case anyone was wondering, I'm not a fan of crowds or their flippant attention."
"Really?" Flitwick asked in genuine curiosity. "Hadn't your parents informed you? Nicolas is in the stands with the other professors, and Perenelle is on-sight to look over any injuries that may occur."
Harry smacked his head and dragged his palm down to his neck, thinking to himself, 'Of course they would be.' "Listen," Harry began as kindly as he could muster. "I only came to spar with Fleur, professor, not dance to the whims of a crowd like some dancing troll."
"As interesting as that would be to see," Flitwick started. "This is hardly that. Your spar with Ms. Delacour is a complicated matter because she's not only a student of an international wizarding school, but she's also their champion in the Triwizard Tournament. It's the very reason why I'm here, along with the Headmaster and Madame Maxime. This is not about dancing to anyone's whims, Mr. Flamel. And I'm certain the crowd is only here for the same reason why everyone loves to see dueling tournament; they're fun… And not, at all, about witnessing the skill of a young man who defeated a Death Eater."
Harry was silent and at a loss, so Hermione asked Flitwick, "You mentioned others to start ahead?"
"Yes, Ms. Granger," Flitwick replied with a cheerful nod. "When the Durmstrang delegation became aware of the spar between two of the four Champions, they refused to be sidelined. Headmaster Dumbledore naturally opened the ring to anyone who'd like to duel as well, and thus, we have an impromptu dueling tournaments. Oh, my blood is just boiling with excitement!"
Harry once again felt powerless at keeping a low profile, despite all his strength.
"I must say," Dumbledore's voice reached the group as the elder man walked to them. "Hogwarts rumor mill has exceeded itself once again."
'I'm sure you had nothing to do with that,' Harry thought.
"Filius," Dumbledore continued. "We should begin soon. Would you care to make the announcements?"
The diminutive charms professor replied, "Headmaster, I feel we may have to start without Mr. Flamel. He was unaware of the sudden changes to his sparring session with Ms. Delacour and would prefer not to participate in the contest."
"Oh, well we can't have that," Dumbledore said, eying Ares with concern. "Would the possibility of a prize change your mind?"
"Oh!" Flitwick gasped. "Of course, there should be a prize for the winner."
"How about that, Mr. Flamel?" Dumbledore asked. "Would that be satisfactory?"
Declining the offer was on the tip of his tongue when Fleur stepped forward—her allure rising some—and begged, "Please, Arez." Even cute, little Gabrielle held him tighter.
Hermione stepped forward as well, and with a pleading tone, asked, "Please, would you? I can only imagine how much I'll learn by watching."
Harry chuckled a bit at how Hermione-like, Hermione always was. Harry looked all around and as they watched him expectantly, he reasoned it would be less trouble to spar with Fleur a bit, than outright refuse. In addition, he already promised the beautiful Veela that he would.
"Fine," he ultimately said, and then they walked onto the field.
Immediately, Harry registered how much shorter the stands were, giving them a much closer bird's eye view of the duels. Walking toward the center of the grounds, Harry was stunned to see Tonks talking with another auror he recalled named John Dawlish. When the Aurors saw them approach, they both nodded at Dumbledore and Flitwick as they continued up the stairs to the dueling ring and greeted the young students. Tonks, while dressed professionally in her auror uniform, still had a strip of bubblegum pink hair fall down her face, keeping to her upbeat personality and making Harry smile.
The Aurors gave Nova a furtive ogle before Dawlish addressed them. "I'm Auror John Dawlish, here to make sure everything stays on the up and up throughout. And this is Nymphadora-"
"Tonks, Auror Dawlish," Tonks quickly corrected him. "Tonks is what I like to go-"
"You go by whatever your commanding officer dictates, junior auror, Nymphadora," Dawlish berated, instantly annoying Harry. Tonks seemed more reserved than he remembered her to be, though it did look like she'd like to punch him in the face. Dawlish extended his gloved hand and in a less commanding voice, said to Harry, "I wonder if I might shake the hand of the wizard who took that grievous monster's arm."
Harry hadn't expected that from Dawlish. In the previous timeline, the man never seemed anything more than a whining lackey—if not criminal. Keeping his hands in place, Harry did nothing more than nod to the man, perfectly fine acting standoffish, much to Hermione's chagrin.
"Ares!" she whispered heatedly, smacking his shoulder, simply aghast by his lack of respect for authority.
Dawlish smiled courteously and proceeded to shake Daphne's, Hermione's, and Draco's hands. Harry and Fleur wondered if he was prejudicial towards half-breeds when he didn't offer to shake Fleur's hand.
John Dawlish said to the young students, "I've read the report and could not be more proud of the courage it must've taken to stand up to that monster."
Tonks was so inspired by Dawlish, she excitedly extended her hand to Harry with a smile, stating, "I heard as well, wotcher Ares! I couldn't believe it myself when I heard. Put her there!"
Harry gratefully shook her hand and she moved along to the next, shaking everyone's hand, except Draco's. Looking over to the silver-blonde, Draco just nods tiredly, as if to say, 'Yes, I said terrible things to her.' Harry wasn't surprised, but amazed by how effortlessly Malfoy could alienate anyone he felt was beneath him.
As much as Harry missed seeing Tonks, he was eager to keep his emotions in check, so said, "It was lovely to meet you Tonks... and you, uh, Darlish."
"Auror Dawlish, young man," Dawlish corrected.
Harry ignored him and kept walking when Hermione asked, "What was that about?"
"Not sure," Harry plainly replied. "He just rubs me the wrong way."
"And he's got sweaty palms," Draco added, brushing his hand on his robe. "Which is saying something considering he's wearing gloves."
"Draco," Harry called. "You're with me. You might as well get some practice."
"What about us?" Daphne asked, gesturing to herself and Hermione. She eyed Fleur before asking Harry, "Shouldn't we experience dueling against others as well?"
"You will," Harry reassured her, mentally noting Luna looking questionably between Hermione, Daphne, and Fleur. "In due time. For now, just pay attention to the strategy."
Hermione took Daphne's wrist and started pulling her away, telling Harry, "Good luck! We'll be cheering for you."
In her dream-like tone of voice, Luna asked, "If ever we have another chance to cheer for you in the future, will you give me a week's notice? I'd love to make a snake's headdress out of paper-mâché to support my friend."
"I... of course, Luna," Harry agreed, not sure if an event like this would ever happen, but happy she was still very much Luna.
As the short, straggly dirty-blonde walked away, Fleur noted, "You 'ave many blonde friendz." Harry turned to her, confused by the observation. She sweetly remarked, "You must be quite partial to blondez."
As Fleur walked up the steps to the elevated ring, Draco let out a low whistle, raising his brow at Harry—the insinuation being teasing in nature. Harry rolled his eyes, ignored the silver-blonde, and rushed up the flight of steps, followed by Draco.
In the middle of the elevated ring, Harry noted that Victor Krum, Zemdai Khan, Cedric Diggory, Hardwin Potter, grinning Fred and George Weasley were standing. On the sideline, there were chairs for the few who were allowed on the dueling platform, including Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, and Dolores Umbridge, who was acting as the ministry's representative.
"Good afternoon, one and all," Dumbledore's booming voice began. "Before we begin, I'd like everyone in attendance to know this is simply a sparring session."
While Dumbledore explained to the audience how this contest came to be, Flitwick spoke with the contestants as they huddled in the center of the square. "I am but a humble mediator, here solely to ensure a fair duel. However, regardless of how you feel concerning any of my verdicts, you will all abide by them. So, as all this began with Ms. Delacour and Mr. Flamel, do either of you have any ideas on the style of tournament you'd like to proceed with?"
"Vhy can dis not be typical tournament?" Krum asked. "Only da best should fight in dhe end."
"As this originally started between Ms. Delacour and Mr. Flamel, it could be said we are intruding on their sparring session. As such, it would only be polite if we yield to them in this matter. We can all draw lots, of course; do single or double elimination. Ladder or pyramid tourneys are an option, as well."
"I'm only here to spar with Fleur," Harry stated to the group. "As long as that happens, I don't care how we do it."
"I agree," Fleur said. "I 'ave no preference so long az I duel wizh Arez."
"Done with Daphne, are ya?" Khan directed at Harry before eying Fleur. "Just as well. She ought to have a proper man about her."
"I don't believe I like your tone, prefect Khan," Flitwick admonished.
"Sorry professor, just guy talk," Khan easily replied in a sympathetic tone. "I'll duel whoever, but I'd like to duel Ms. Delacour if possible." Harry didn't like the cruel perversion in his eye and prayed he had the chance to duel him.
"I am very eager to duel vith Mr. Flamel," Krum stated, staring at Harry with sharpness in his eyes.
"I'm fine with anything," Cedric told the group, and Hardwin agreed, adding, "Same here."
"We don't care," Fred cheerfully announced.
"We just thought this sounded loads better than sitting with the crowd, eh Fred?" George asked his twin.
"Right you are brother o' mine," Fred returned with a grin.
"I think we ought to do a challenge tourney," Draco proposed, drawing everyone to look at him. "Anyone of us can challenge any one of us to a three-point duel. If you lose, obviously you're out of the tournament, and those that remain can continue to duel until the final two." Looking at Flitwick, he added, "You can choose the order of the challenges, professor. In addition, everyone has the right to contest one challenge. If for instance, Krum challenges Delacour, and Ares felt either Delacour or Krum might lose, he can contest the challenge for the right to duel either Krum or Delacour. In that sub contest if Ares beats either Krum or Delacour, they are not out of the tournament, but they will have to wait their turn to challenge again. If Ares loses, he's out of the tournament. Last one standing wins whatever the prize will be."
Harry wondered if a challenge-based tournament would keep him from having to duel too much, since he didn't think any of the participants would offer him a challenge.
"Fine proposition, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick stated jovially. "Are there any objections?"
"What's the prize, professor?" Fred asked excitedly.
"Gold?" George asked, just as excited.
"A racing broom?" Fred interjected.
"Automatic graduation?" George eagerly proposed, and Fred looked at him impressed.
"It has not been discussed, as of yet," Flitwick told the twins. "However, we will announce it as we move closer to the finals."
When it seemed like everyone accepted Draco's idea, Harry said, "I'm fine doing a challenge tourney, but I don't care for points. That was never a point of focus in my training—or upbringing, for that matter. I'd prefer victory by submission, wand disarming, or knock out."
"At the most, this is an exhibition, Mr. Flamel," Flitwick returned. "With all four of the Triwizard champions participating, no less. I don't think the headmasters will approve of that."
"I prefer dhis method very much, professor," Krum said to the diminutive half-goblin. "If no one objects?"
Everyone in the group seemed to be hesitant to object, but the weight of what it meant sobered them up from the levity and humor of the tournament just moments ago. Flitwick walked over to the headmaster and informed him of the type of tournament and the rules. Dumbledore was clearly concerned about the safety of the champions, and after informing the audience, he made sure everyone knew that he or Professor Flitwick would stop any match they deemed too unsafe.
Everyone picked a spot around the ring to stay during matches. Fleur and Draco were on either side of Harry on the side of the platform closest to the forest. The twins, Hardwin, and Cedric were on the following side of the platform, Khan and Krum were opposite Harry, and the headmasters with Umbridge were seated in the middle of the fourth side.
From the center of the square dueling ring, Flitwick announced to the crowd, "We will allow either Mr. Flamel or Ms. Delacour to make the first challenge," to a grand cheer.
Harry turned to Fleur, directed his palm to the ring, conveying, "Ladies first."
She curtsies with far too much sex appeal—making Harry breath in deeply—then proudly walked to the center of the ring.
"How d'you reckon it'll go?" Draco asked. "She ought to know if she chooses you, Krum or one of the others will contest it for the right to fight you first."
"Only if they think she could beat me," Harry answered the silver-blonde. "If I was Krum, I'd rather love the chance to see my style of fighting, so as to think up a strategy to counter it."
"I would like to challenge Arez Flamel," Fleur sweetly stated with a brilliant smile. Many of the Beauxbaton girls cooed, wooed, and whistled suggestively, while nearly all the boys were booing Harry, shouting a few, "Tosser!" "Wanker!" And or, "Lucky prat!"
"Please refrain from shouting profanities! Don't think I didn't see you, Mr. Davies," Flitwick warned the four filled stadium benches. "Now, would anyone like to contest?" Flitwick asked the contenders.
Before Khan could step forward to contest, Draco beat the seventh year prefect to it, and announced, "I wish to contest. I'd like to duel Ms. Delacour." Flitwick nodded as Draco turned to Harry and said, "As much as I'd love to stand here and watch you play with your French delicacy, some of us would rather take this seriously."
"I'll believe that when I see it, Malfoy," Harry returned as Draco left to take an opposing position to Fleur.
Both wands in their hands, the clear barrier protecting the audience from catching stray spells rose high above them before Flitwick gave a stern cry of, "Begin!"
Draco possessed relatively the same magical strength and knowledge he had before he died, and with Harry's help, he had improved, but Harry had told him that it didn't guarantee anything. This was a good opportunity to see if Draco had been paying attention and thought more about strategy.
From the start, Draco called out, "Lumos Maxima!" blasting a light as dangerous to look at as the sun from the tip of his wand, followed by some quick, "Depulso, Depulso, Depulso," in her general direction.
Harry managed to hear Fleur say, "Levioso," by the time the flare of light subsided. Draco sidestepped when everyone in the arena saw Fleur had elevated the square tile she was standing on about eight feet up. Harry noted the entire barrier from the seven-foot mark and down was vibrating, signaling that it was protecting everyone outside from some form of danger.
Draco called out, "Stupify!" as he ran around her, to which she protected herself with a shield.
It was then when Draco noticed the barrier vibrating, containing unseen danger within. Draco couldn't see what it was and was about to call another spell when he misstepped and stumbled to the ground. He was slow to get up, wrecked with extreme slumber.
"Expeliarmus," Fleur stated from her elevated stone tile, and Draco's wand tried to shoot out to Fleur, shifting his arm up, but it was clearly tethered to his wrist holster. Disarming him, however, didn't matter since he was asleep, and Flitwick ended the match. Fleur flourished and swiped her wand, and the sleep charm she must've cast during Draco's Lumos stopped agitating the barrier and disappeared.
'That's what happens when strength meets strategy,' Harry mentally berated his unconscious comrade.
"Winner: Fleur Delacour," professor Flitwick announced with his magically enhanced voice, to a great cheer from the male population. Harry walked over to a sleeping Draco, and noticed a thin trail of blood stream down his face from his forehead. "Oh, dear, he must've hit his head when he tripped," Flitwick stated, checking Malfoy over. Flitwick woke him up with the counter charm.
"You did well, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said with care.
"You lost," Harry restated evenly. "In case you were wondering."
Draco looked around, palming the blood flowing from the cut on forehead, and seemed to accept it, before asking, "How?"
"Easily," Harry answered. "I'll tell you later."
"Professor Flamel will treat you," Flitwick informed him. "Just down the steps, if you would, Mr. Malfoy."
Fleur gave him a courteous curtsy that Draco returned with a short bow before he headed down the stairs. As everyone but Flitwick returned to their side of the square, Harry noted the slightly hobbled way Fleur was walking.
"You're tensing when you take a step," Harry said to Fleur. "Did he nick you?"
"Qui," Fleur stated with a tight smile that was closer to a grimace. "There ees much more impact een 'is spells zhan I was expecting."
"You ought to have it looked at," Harry suggested as they nearly reached their side of the dueling square.
"I appreciate your concern, Arez, but I've 'ad much worse zhen zhis," she said, and they both recalled the pain she experienced from the night of the Quidditch World Cup. Harry conjured a chair for her to sit in, and the alluring beauty smiled brilliantly in gratitude.
"And now," Flitwick announced to the crowd. "Mr. Flamel will state his challenge."
Harry turned to Flitwick, and simply said, "Zemdai Khan."
"Mr. Flamel will be challenging Slytherin prefect, Zemdai Khan," Flitwick announced to the crowd, to which came a flurry of cheers. "Does anyone wish to contest the challenge? No? Well, then beg-"
"Wait!" Khan yelled. He asked Flitwick, "You're not planning on letting him duel with a bloody bird humpin his shoulder?"
"Mr. Khan, please," Flitwick chastised the young fat prefect. "That is no way to speak to-"
"Go on, Nova," Harry said to his beautiful dark phoenix. "Enjoy the skies a bit." Without hesitation Nova took off as if shot out of a cannon into the afternoon sky. Harry watched her fly high around the Forbidden Forest before turning his glare on Khan, who was returning a hated look of his own.
"Well then, begin!" Flitwick called followed by a palpable cheer from the crowd.
Harry could tell the adults were much more observant—leaning forwards in their chairs—while the younger witches and wizards were simply excited to see the wizard who had fought off a Death Eater.
"Let's see how you do when the adults are watching your every move, freak," Khan spat, despite Flitwick's earlier warning.
Harry didn't flick out his wand in his hand. Instead, he lazily placed both hands behind his back and started walking toward Khan.
"Expulso!" Khan shouted, shocking the crowd that he would cast a dark curse that caused immense explosions. Flitwick took a few steps forward to, more than likely, stop the dark curse, but Harry easily sidestepped the inbound threat without worry, and the spell struck the invisible barrier with large, rippling vibrations. Harry had a wide variety of points of attack, and was nearly struck with indecision on how to best enjoy incapacitating the large seventh-year.
"Did you put my name in the Goblet?" Harry asked, wordlessly and wandlessly amplifying his voice so the entire stadium heard him clearly.
"Fuc-" Khan started to curse, when he realized his voice had also been amplified as well.
He touched his throat as Harry asked again, "Did you put my name in the Goblet? My family spoke with the head of the DMLE, and depending on the motive the perpetrator, or perpetrators, had, they could be brought up on criminal charges."
"You're a disgrace to the great name of Slytherin!" Khan spat, no longer caring if everyone could hear him. "And if you refuse to leave our great house of your own accord, you only have yourself to blame if you die in the first task! Reducto!" he called, his voice still amplified, followed by the Entrail-Expelling Curse, the Disintegration Curse, and the Finger-Removing Jinx; all truly terrible in their intent.
Harry narrowly avoided each curse, reading the trajectory of Khan's aim before the spell even exited his wand. Just as the Finger-Removing Jinx burst from the fat Prefect's wand, Harry mentally summoned Khan's dress slacks with Accio, while simultaneously banishing his dress shirt, spinning the boy in the air with great enough force to completely flip him twice before landing hard on his flabby back, shirt and slacks having been ripped off of him.
Harry transfigured the ground to clamp manacles on both of Khan's hands, preventing him from getting up or casting another spell. Since the struggling seventh-year hadn't submitted, wasn't knocked out, and Harry hadn't disarmed him, Flitwick didn't stop the match as Harry calmly walked over to the half-naked, struggling Prefect.
In an amplified voice, Harry told Khan, "You need to ask yourself, what's more important, Khan? Your legs..." Harry conjured six swords high above Khan to descend on Khan's legs faster than the force of gravity. The sharp blades narrowly missed his trembling flesh by the barest of margins, making the boy gasp. "...or your pride?" Harry finished.
"Mr. Flamel…" Flitwick called, making sure he knew he'd stop anything that was too severe.
"Fuck you!" Khan screamed throughout the stadium when he regained some of his lost fury.
"Your magic?" Harry continued, as he conjured two axes that spin in the air for several moments before landing stuck, cutting into the stone tile that could've just as easily been both of Khan's wrists, "…Or your pride?"
"You don't scare me! You can't do anything!" Khan astutely replied. With the professors on the verge of stopping the match, Harry knew that what he could do to him in public would never amount to the level of sufficient opposition, but it was enough of a warning to Khan, as well as Dumbledore.
"Think about this Khan, with every single person here as my witness, if you don't get it through that thick skull of yours to leave me and mine alone, I'm going to make bloody well sure you lose something you'll never get back again. Stupify."
And near as he said it, Khan was knocked unconscious. The crowd was deathly silent and unsure of what to make of the public drama between Slytherins or Harry's clear threat. Harry walked back to Fleur as Flitwick assisted in transporting Khan's unconscious body down to the ground so Perenelle could do the bare minimum of adequate health care. Harry was then joined by Dumbledore as Flitwick announced Hardwin Potter as the next contestant to challenge.
"If you would allow us a moment of privacy, Ms. Delacour," Dumbledore asked the beautiful Beauxbaton student.
Before she acquiesced to his request, Harry said, "That won't be necessary, Headmaster. You are welcome to speak with my parents if you wish to know more about the investigation into the parties involved in putting my name in the Goblet."
Hardwin took to the center of the stage and angrily called out, "I challenge Ronald Weasley," causing a ruckus among the crowd, and surprising Harry himself.
Dumbledore grumbled, eying Hardwin with a small amount of concern before returning his attention to Harry. "That is not what I wish to speak with you about," Dumbledore said, then turned to Fleur. "Ms. Delacour, if you would, please."
Fleur nodded to Harry before getting up and walking toward her Headmistress. When she walked away, Harry noticed a familiar beetle fly around in circles around them before landing on the hem of Dumbledore's left sleeve. The weighing of the wands wasn't scheduled until tomorrow, but it seemed Rita was an early riser. "You threatened that young man, Mr. Flamel."
"I made a promise, Headmaster," Harry returned as he watched Ron enter the arena. "One I intend to keep if he doesn't leave me alone."
"Did you even consider your station, your guardians, before you recklessly proclaimed an ill-advised threat?"
"Perenelle was the one who encouraged me to start taking limbs if they refuse to listen and leave me alone," Harry returned. "She's rather tired of her heir being under constant threat in your castle, as she's already expressed to you. It seems to me your best avenue for peace is to convince Khan it will not go well for him if he continues to go after me or my friends again."
"I had to reassure Undersecretary Umbridge that this useless display is nothing more than a schoolyard scuffle, but clearly I was mistaken. I cannot impede on an official ministry investigation if she chooses to instigate one. Is that what you prefer, Mr. Flamel? Must I allow her to make a case of arguable criminal intention simply so you can see the errors of your way?"
"The only error I see here, Headmaster, is misplaced faith and delusions of grandeur, and I will not play along for the sake of the illusion of peace. I've got nothing more to say on this matter, but you're welcome to take it up with my parents if you wish. There's a bug on your robe, by the way."
Dumbledore lifted his left arm, and the beetle flew away, likely to write a salacious tale for the Daily Prophet by tomorrow. Dumbledore returned to his seat before Ron and Hardwin's match began as Fleur rejoined him.
"Madame Maxime wishes I should be more careful wizh you," Fleur admitted.
"She's not completely wrong," Harry agreed.
"Madame Maxime informed me of zhe pink toad woman's intentionz of bringing criminal charges against you. She would like you to know zhat she will speak on your behalf to zhe French Ministry eef necessary. And I will, of course, inform my pappa of zhat boy's maliciousness toward you."
Harry felt the unfamiliar sense of gratitude for their staunch defense of him, and hesitated to say, "Uh, thanks, Fleur."
"My pleasure," she sensually replied.
The pair then heard Hardwin yell at Ron in disbelief, "You believe someone put Flamel's name in the Goblet, but you don't believe me?!"
"That's because I know how much of a glory hound you are!" Ron retorted.
"This is getting interesting," Harry remarked, when he felt an unexpected bout of concern, like the growing darkness of clouds and the uncertainty of just how severe the storm ahead would be. Harry looked between Hardwin and Ron and felt nothing out of the ordinary from them. He turned about him, eager to find this terrible gravity weighing on him, looking at the crowds. He felt no different scanning them over when he spotted all sorts of birds flying away from the forest, drawing his attention to the tall, wind-swaying trees. It could very well be nothing, but like an iceberg's deception, the danger lay hidden below the surface. Harry back-stepped into the ring, keeping a measured eye on the forest as Flitwick was about to start Hardwin and Ron's match.
"Arez?" Fleur questioned curiously.
"Mr. Flamel, if you'd kindly step out of the dueling space," Flitwick asked.
Harry's uneasiness worsened, despite the source of it remaining unknown. His rising agitation made him snap his wand into his palm and he automatically looked all around him as if the danger had grown much larger than he could withstand. He quickly looked for Hermione and Luna, but found Hermione and Daphne gone from their seats instead, only adding to his growing agitation.
"Oi, Flamel," Hardwin called, trying to get his attention.
"Oh, it's Flamel now?" Ron berated Hardwin. "Getting real cozy with a Slytherin, aren't ya?"
Just then a loud screech reverberated throughout the arena from high in the sky, drawing everyone's attention. Nova dived so fast from the sky she produced a whistle in her wake. She extended her great wings to halt her high-speed descent, causing a large gust on the stage. Her claws found Harry's robes and pulled at him to leave.
"Nova," Harry apprehensively questioned. Her behavior was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed before, and he could instantly tell she was the reason for his extreme concern earlier, as she tried to pull him away. She had enough strength to easily lift him, so he knew this was her way of pleading for him to go. He could feel her great need to leave, yet he had no grasp on what had her so scared.
"Nova, easy girl. Be eas-" he started until the arena finally sensed rumbling approaching.
Dumbledore himself stood and stared at the Forbidden Forest. Flitwick stepped ahead, extending his open palms—as one might do in order to keep a wall from falling—somehow sensing through them.
"We need to cancel this now," Harry urgently suggested, but couldn't give a conclusive reason as to why, all the while trying to calm his avian friend down.
"He's right, Albus," Flitwick stated in a panicked voice. "Everyone needs to leave, now!"
When a distant symphony of clicking started to fill all the air around the entire area, Dumbledore quickly amplified his voice and alerted the audience. "I'm afraid we'll have to conclude the matches at this stage." Dumbledore turned to Flitwick, who became incredibly alert. "If everyone would kindly return to the-"
An ear-piercing scream cut through the air at the first leg of a highly dangerous throng of beasts savagely emerged from the forest, clicking and screeching ferociously. One quickly turned to tens, then by every inch of the treeline, hundreds. If the distant, violent shuffling of trees was any indication, many hundreds of car-sized, eight-legged and poisonous creatures raging with ferocious hunger rushed the field toward the arena much faster than any human could possibly outrun. Without the trees to slow them, they swarmed and blackened every blade of cold green valley grass, like a grand blanket of darkness flooding the land.
Cold, stricken, and doubtful of thoughts of tomorrow, Harry mentally identified the hundreds upon hundreds of eight-foot-tall, poisonous threat…
…Acromantulas.
I'm REALLY SORRY that I left this at a cliffhanger, especially since I don't think I can update next week. It's really bad timing. If I can make it up to you guys, I will, but again, sorry 😟😞
The girls are getting closer or Harry's breaking down, and I thought of a funny idea with Draco and Harry that I can't wait to write.
Thanks again for reading and supporting. Please let me know what you think and Have a great week/Mother's Day!